The Things We Know
by Friendship-Bravery-Souffles
Summary: Oneshot - He was standing there awkwardly, dazed, staring at her with wide eyes, seeing her for the first time again. She wanted to say something, do something to make him feel better, to assure him that everything was okay. But at that moment she was at a loss, she was scared.


**A/N: If this idea has already been thoroughly done I am genuinely sorry, I have mostly tried to avoid Eleven regeneration stories, so imagine my surprise to find myself writing one. I love Matt and Jenna's chemistry as actors, so as many people were, I was really upset at the news that we were getting a new Doctor for Christmas. But I have seen him change his face twice now, so I'm staying the optimistic Whovian. Rose and Ten are keeping me optimistic for Clara and Twelve. Anywho, thank you to those who read and thank you to those who favourite/review.**

**Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and friends.**

The iridescent golden light was making her eyes water, not that she hadn't already been crying, but the glow was so intense that it really wasn't helping at all.

He was gasping for breath, so she helped him pull off his bowtie.

"Cool is not worth choking for." She said to him. She had said bowties were cool, and that made his pained expression lift into a smile for just a moment, before the Doctor, _her _Doctor, kissed her quickly through their tears, and then pushed her away, as the glow started to completely shroud his hands and his face.

She just stayed where she'd staggered back to, leaning against the TARDIS console and holding the edge like a vice. If she had a care for herself at that moment she might have noticed that she was gripping it so tightly the feeling was gone in her fingers. But she had long since forgotten to worry about herself, not even bothering to brush away the blood that was dripping from a small but deep cut on her cheek.

She knew why he pushed her back, she knew what was happening, but that didn't make it any better. Though when she thought about it, this _was_ better, for him at least, he wasn't alone this time.

The light became so bright that at the last moment she couldn't see him anymore, her Doctor, she couldn't see the last moment of that face.

That face had been the first him her face saw.

Now hers was the last face that face saw, and hers was also the first face this face saw.

She'd seen every single version of him, but she had never seen him go from one to another. She disagreed with him that bodies were boring, each of his bodies had been a lot more than a way to cart his mind around, they were important to how he expressed himself. He had once been a young man trying to seem old, and lately he'd been old man trying to be young again.

He was still gasping for breath. His trousers seemed too long and looked too tight to be comfortable. When he tried to take a step towards her he tripped a bit over his toes, which made her think that the shoes were probably a size too large now as well.

He was standing there awkwardly, dazed, staring at her with wide eyes, seeing her for the first time again.

She wanted to say something, _do_ something to make him feel better, to assure him that everything was okay. But at that moment she was at a loss, she was scared.

She had known exactly where on his left side that he was ticklish, even though he always vehemently denied it, one touch and he would be wriggling away. She had known which odd foods he loved, and what he would give her the 'are you trying to poison me' look if she put in front of him. She had known how much sugar he took in his tea, and that was quite a lot, far more than she considered to be healthy really.

She had known exactly how roughly she could kiss along his collar bone without leaving a mark, she could easily toe that fine line, but she had also known how to cross it, and he never seemed to mind when she did. She had known by the look on his face when he meant 'follow me' or 'whatever you do don't move.' Sometimes she listened and sometimes she didn't, but that was part of why he liked her.

She had known how high she needed to jump in order to throw her arms around his neck.

She had known what his face looked like when he was having a pleasant dream.

She had known the places he liked her hands to wander to.

She had known all of these things about him and _so_ much more.

But this was a new him. New him, new rules.

She couldn't gage how tall he was now. It was hard to tell because he was still slumped over from when he had taken his first unsteady step. So she didn't throw herself up into his arms, she just walked over to him; worried he wouldn't make it if he tried to move just yet. She wrapped her arms around his middle and braced herself against him, trying to help support his weight. He clutched her close, burying his face into the crook of her neck. He may not have fit there the same way, but the gesture was unmistakably him.

He still knew that their little touches grounded her, reminding her that he was real since the day they went to Trenzalore. He still knew that she loved strawberry jam, but hated strawberry ice cream, although she could never properly explain why. He still knew that she liked it when he played with her hair when they sat together, reading books or watching the stars at night.

He still knew that she had a jagged scar on her thigh, which she had been incredibly embarrassed about him seeing the first few times. He still knew that scar was a token from a rainy day when she was seventeen, when her failure to get her Mum's soufflé right had made her cry, resulting in clouded eyes and an accident with a sharp knife.

He still knew that she was more scared than she let on.

He still knew she had fragile, human skin.

He still knew that she would always be his Clara, his Impossible Girl.

"You're not ginger." Was all she could think to say when their grip on each other lessened enough for her to look at him.

"At this rate I never will be." He replied awkwardly, his voice breaking a bit. New mouth, new teeth, she thought.

She took a tiny step back to look at him, not enough for him to have to let her go, but enough to take him in.

"You've still got great hair though." She said, moving her hands to run through the long sandy brown locks. It was mess at the moment, but she liked.

"I think you're a bit shorter." Now that they were close and he was less hunched over she could tell that she didn't have to look up quite as high to see his face.

"Still got two eyes, and they're a nice green, a deeper green." She said, her hands coming down from his hair so her thumbs could brush his thin eyebrows.

"Two ears." Her hands moved to touch those.

"Nose." She poked it gently with her pointer finger.

"Smaller chin, I won't be able to call you Chin Boy anymore..."

"Lips." She said as she quickly kissed him. That got him smiling again. It was a good smile, warm, it reached his eyes.

"So not a bad job all in all?" He said, his voice croaked a bit again.

"Not at all." She assured him as best she could.

He hesitantly moved a finger over her cheek, a much paler version of the light from before ghosting over her skin as he traced the line of the forgotten cut. She felt her skin get hot and cold, tingling yet numb, before it tugged seemingly in two directions. She knew that there was no trace of that cut now.

She didn't know a lot of things about him now, but then, he also didn't know a lot about himself at the moment either. She was clever, she could learn again, they could find out together what he liked to eat, if he was funny, if he was foxy, what expressions he would make when he was deep in thought, what would make him sigh, what he thought was cool…

Nothing important had changed, not really. He was still him. She still knew the important things about him, and he still knew the important things about her. The only change was that she knew twelve of his faces now instead of eleven.

"My Clara." His voice sounded more even when he said that.

"My Doctor." She replied.


End file.
